


the birth of a terror, a wonder, a love

by grim_lupine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-17
Updated: 2009-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grim_lupine/pseuds/grim_lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know there is madness in his eyes when he looks into your own, but you think there is the same madness in your heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the birth of a terror, a wonder, a love

-

\--

You know idealism; it’s what runs in his veins in place of blood. It’s what he breathes instead of air, the song that seizes him up, makes him whisper things to you fervently until you burn with _possibility_.

 _look what we can do, albus, the two of us together. don't you know the two of us together can do_ anything _?_

You know practicality as well (or what _they_ call practicality), familiar with it in the stubborn-eyed adults of your time, too firmly entrenched in their own misguided beliefs to see reason.

 _they will never see reason, never, look at how foolish they are. look at the way they ruin the world around us; the world_ needs _us, albus. we are its saviours._

You know that he and you—the two of you together—are a perfect mix, a beautiful coupling of the idealism and the right kind of practicality that the future world will need. When his excitement gets the better of him, lighting his eyes with something strange (unsettling), you are the one who brings him down from it, tells him to see reason, until that look in his eyes is gone and he is smiling sweetly at you, someone you know once again. (If you were honest with yourself you would realize that you know him even when there is bloodlust and fever in his eyes. Maybe that is when you know him best.)

 _we will take the world by storm, with thunder and lightning and fury and blood. we will create a revolution like they have never seen, like they have never even_ imagined _, because_ albus _, don’t you realize? we_ know _what this world needs—it needs_ us. _it needs us to grab it firm and make it something great._

You know other things, too. You know that you two are indeed smarter than anyone else around you; you know you have power unimaginable and intelligence inconceivable, and sometimes you stare at your two hands, calloused and ink-stained and boyish, normal, and you are frightened at the things you know you can _do_. You know that _he_ is never frightened; he wraps himself in power like it is a better-fitting skin than the one he wears, draws his wand down your body with elegant hands and a wicked smile, and the hungry sting of his teeth is like dying, and the clenching of his thighs around you, strong as he presses you down to the ground, is a fiery, broken rebirth.

 _beautiful albus,_ my _albus, can’t you see it? can’t you see the world we will create? can't you see it has only been_ waiting _for someone like us to come forward?_

You know there is madness in his eyes when he looks into your own, but you think there is the same madness in your heart. Why else would you remain here? Why else, when you know he is not _yours_ as you are _his_ , even as he professes it into the taut curve of your neck, even as he traces those promises with deft fingers over your trembling body, the slick bow of your mouth.

He tells you:

 _yours, always yours,_ only _yours_

and he tells you:

 _forever, forever, the two of us together_ forever

and he tells you this:

 _we are not like others. we are special. we will show them who we are from our rightful thrones, because_ albus, _can you not see that they_ need _us, they need us to_ rule _?_

And so, somehow, it seems a natural extension of the words dripping like honey from his sweet, clever tongue, it seems only right that _you_ are the first to voice it. It is only right that it is _your_ voice splintering the heat between your sweat-slick bodies, _you_ who says brokenly:

 _for the greater good_.

\--

-


End file.
